Author: Green
Title: Love, Death
Pairing: B/S
Rating: PG13? Because of violence and sexual innuendo
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but Spike owns me.
Summary: Buffy muses. Post Dead Things.
Feedback: Please! Here or at beingagreenmother@yahoo.com
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He loves me.
Sometimes when he tells me, I want to melt into his arms and remain there, perfect and complete, forever. A part of him, and he a part of me. One entity, exquisite in its perfection, in its unending glory. He is my eternity. He is my future and my hope.
Sometimes when he tells me, I want to hurt him. Beat him until his face becomes swollen and bruised, with blood oozing from his wounds. I want to show him something; I want to show him pain. Loving him is pain.
Love is pain, anyway. Relationships are doomed from the beginning, whether the object of your affections is dark and brooding, or laughter and comfort.
I've loved twice before in my life. The first was what you might call an unhealthy relationship. Multiple personalities and such. He could be tender and loving one moment, then wake up an evil, sadistic killer the next.
My next serious relationship was the exact opposite, or so I thought. I picked the perfect guy... stable, likeable, not giving me constant angst and such... not like... you know.
But that one, well, he was just plain boring. I would have married him, probably, if not for his little.. indiscretion. Someone made sure to point out his faults. Someone...
Spike. How do I describe him? There are times when he looks at me, when I could fall into his clear blue eyes, fall into the deep pools inside where love swims gracefully.
There are times when I could drive a stake through his heart, because he loves me. If he didn't love me, I would never have to face my own feelings, would I? There would be no passionate kisses, no houses falling down around us as we found ourselves in each other's bodies.
I found myself that first time. I tasted God, and He tasted like salt and blood. I looked into the light of eternity, felt the edge of death inside of me.
Together, we danced, a kind of macabre, lonely dance, in which the partners aren't two people who find each other, but one Person who finds himself. Herself.
There is death inside of me, and life, too. There is darkness and light. There is both good and the potential for evil. I never understood before.
In him, I find love.
In him, I find death. Death is my gift, right?
*Death isn't a gift.*
But it is. A dead man gave me my life back. Made me feel again.
I felt love. I'll never admit it.
God help me, I love him. But I will beat it down, beat HIM down, until there is nothing left but ash.
We don't deserve to love. I know myself now, I know what kind of person I am. I shouldn't love, or *be* loved. And he...
He loves me.
Title: Love, Death
Pairing: B/S
Rating: PG13? Because of violence and sexual innuendo
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but Spike owns me.
Summary: Buffy muses. Post Dead Things.
Feedback: Please! Here or at beingagreenmother@yahoo.com
_____________________________________________________________
He loves me.
Sometimes when he tells me, I want to melt into his arms and remain there, perfect and complete, forever. A part of him, and he a part of me. One entity, exquisite in its perfection, in its unending glory. He is my eternity. He is my future and my hope.
Sometimes when he tells me, I want to hurt him. Beat him until his face becomes swollen and bruised, with blood oozing from his wounds. I want to show him something; I want to show him pain. Loving him is pain.
Love is pain, anyway. Relationships are doomed from the beginning, whether the object of your affections is dark and brooding, or laughter and comfort.
I've loved twice before in my life. The first was what you might call an unhealthy relationship. Multiple personalities and such. He could be tender and loving one moment, then wake up an evil, sadistic killer the next.
My next serious relationship was the exact opposite, or so I thought. I picked the perfect guy... stable, likeable, not giving me constant angst and such... not like... you know.
But that one, well, he was just plain boring. I would have married him, probably, if not for his little.. indiscretion. Someone made sure to point out his faults. Someone...
Spike. How do I describe him? There are times when he looks at me, when I could fall into his clear blue eyes, fall into the deep pools inside where love swims gracefully.
There are times when I could drive a stake through his heart, because he loves me. If he didn't love me, I would never have to face my own feelings, would I? There would be no passionate kisses, no houses falling down around us as we found ourselves in each other's bodies.
I found myself that first time. I tasted God, and He tasted like salt and blood. I looked into the light of eternity, felt the edge of death inside of me.
Together, we danced, a kind of macabre, lonely dance, in which the partners aren't two people who find each other, but one Person who finds himself. Herself.
There is death inside of me, and life, too. There is darkness and light. There is both good and the potential for evil. I never understood before.
In him, I find love.
In him, I find death. Death is my gift, right?
*Death isn't a gift.*
But it is. A dead man gave me my life back. Made me feel again.
I felt love. I'll never admit it.
God help me, I love him. But I will beat it down, beat HIM down, until there is nothing left but ash.
We don't deserve to love. I know myself now, I know what kind of person I am. I shouldn't love, or *be* loved. And he...
He loves me.